What I Really Want

 What I really want 
Is that strong clichéd shoulder 
to lean on when unfelt, hot tears
Flow down.

Hearing ears that listen to those

Heavy poems that need to be heard.

Sitting together on that red velvety couch,

With those orange flames chasing away

Sorrowful shadows from that 

white-bricked fireplace,  

And that over 6 feet someone 

to hold hands with, and walk over

Cobble-stoned streets with, 

That iron laced icon standing still,

Under that French moon.

Someone to hug away my fearful fears, 

And kiss me into madness.

Of random walks on moon-kissed beaches

and lingering warmth of tousled sheets.

And emptied bottles of red, red, wine

And light pink roses to remind me

of the "all in" of him,

Of purple-gold sunsets with arms entwined, 

Watching golden sparkles on darkening sea,

Of lingering sun reflected on eyes

Light filled, looking down on me,

So I can finally say I'm all in too,

and kiss those tempting lips back.